The Twenty-Five Pounder
by Idiosylph
Summary: Young Bustopher Jones has always had a hard time fitting in. Will another visit to the Junkyard really make a difference?


The Twenty-Five Pounder

"But I don't _want_ to go to the Junkyard, Father!"

"Bustopher Jones, you are coming to the Junkyard with me. The matter is not open to discussion."

A plump, pale, cream queen looked up from her cushion. "Do not argue with your father, Busty-kins. And _do_ quit speaking in contractions. You sound like a garden variety housecat when you do." She turned her attention away from the pouty kitten, who was at the moment none to pleased about being forced to go to the Junkyard or about being called 'Busty-kins,' and to the black and white tom next to him. "Wuskacat, darling, please make sure you get Busty-kins home at a reasonable hour and mind he doesn't get his coat dirty. He just was bathed this morning."

"Yes dear." Wuskacat answered. "Now, come along Bustopher." The kitten, still sulking, slunk behind his father. The two were almost identical, except for white spat-like markings on Bustopher's paws that were missing on his father.

_Bathed... That's so embarassing. All the other kittens can bathe themselves, or at least their mothers do it. I have to get bathed by a **human**. I hate going to the Junkyard. The same thing happens every time. Father goes to talk to Old Philemon and Deuteronomy while I sit there. Either that or I get shuttled off to be with the other kittens and they're going to make 'twenty-five pounder' jokes again. I don't have anything in common with any of the other kittens anyway. Mother and Father won't let me act like them and I can't play because I'll get dirty._

Bustopher continued to fume in these same lines until they reached the Junkyard. Wuskacat led him straight to the central tire where Old Philimon and Deuteronomy were sitting. Out of the corner of his eye Bustopher could see the other kittens. Every so often one would make a face or stick their tail up in a rudely comical imitation of how Bustopher always held his slightly over his back. Then he heard the giggles of the queen kits as they watched the antics of their tom counterparts. As much as it stung to be the object of all the jokes, Bustopher occasionaly found himself looking over his shoulder, constantly wondering what it must be like to be included in a group of friends.

He also wondered what it was like to be able to impress the queen kits like that. Most of the kittens in the Junkyard were at about, what the adults nebulously called, "that age" when they were starting to notice other kittens as either toms or queens. And, dispite what Mother and Father would say about most of the cats in the tribe being nothing much better than strays and alley cats, there were a couple of rather... cute queen kits.

Reaching the tire, Wuskacat and Bustopher both bowed and touched paws with both the Jellicle Leader and the Jellicle Protector. Then the two settled down, Wuskacat being sure to find someplace that qualified as 'clean' and making sure Bustopher did likewise. "To what do we owe this visit?" Old Philimon asked, smiling.

"Oh, mearly a social call." Wuskacat replied. "We had not been down in a while, and it was such a lovely afternoon that young Bustopher and I decided on trip to see the tribe."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you could make it." Philimon smiled, "But where is Cockalorum? I haven't seen your lovely mate in ages."

Wuskacat shook his head slightly. "I am sorry to say that she just could not make it. Her constitution, you know. It really is not up to what it used to be." Bustopher's ears pricked up. Mother's _constitution_? Mother who could walk two miles to the high street to see the season's new collars? His black tail twitched. He knew that his parent's tended to lie about certain things when it suited them, but he never liked it when Father did it. Especially not when he did it to the Jellicle Leader. Wuskacat noticed his son's tail twitching. "Bustopher, it is such a nice day, what would you think about playing with the other kittens?"

Bustopher's eyes got wide. "N... no thank you sir." he stammered.

"But you must be bored stiff listening to all this adult stuff." Deuteronomy smiled at the kitten. "Come on. I'll take you over." The Jellicle Protector extended a paw which Bustopher took reluctantly and only after a stern look from his father.

They were a good distance away from the tire when Bustopher suddenly dug his heels in. Deuteronomy was almost jerked back by the suddeness of it and turned around with a look of confusion on his face when he saw the rolly-polly kitten shaking. "Please don't make me go." he begged. "I'd really rather stay with Father."

"What's wrong, Bustopher?" Deuteronomy asked. "A kit your age should be having a good time, not sitting around listening to adults yammer on."

"But I won't be having a good time." Bustopher protested (and no contractions be damned!), "All they're going to do with me over there is make me the butt of their jokes and call me names. That's why I didn't want to come here in the first place!" he started crying and sat down on the ground, ignoring the fact that his mother was going to insist on another bath once he got home.

The gray tabby knelt down beside the crying kitten and placed a comforting arm around his shoulder. "But I thought your dad said you wanted to come?" he asked quietly.

Bustpher sniffed. "He made me come, him and Mother. He says that every Jellicle should come to the Junkyard every so often, even though most of the cats are types we shouldn't mix with." He felt Deuteronomy's arm tense a little but went on. "I didn't want to come because every time I do I either get bored from being around all the adults or humiliated from being around the kittens. I wouldn't mind coming if they didn't tease me." he looked up at Deuteronomy, eyes still wet. "Mother and Father don't let me play with anyone here because they don't want me getting dirty, and there's no-one to play with at home."

Deuteronomy sighed. There were a lot of built-up issues in the black and white kitten. "Well, how come the others tease you?" he asked, trying another approach.

"Because I'm a Saint James' Street Cat." Bustopher answered. "And because I'm..." his last word trailed off into a unintelligible murmur. 

"Why?" Deuteronomy asked again.

Fresh tears started welling up in Bustopher's eyes. "Because I'm fat!" He rubbed his eyes with his paws. "It's not my fault! Well, not all of it. Our humans always feed us cream and I can't play or run around to excersise. Mother and Father certainly don't help. Father walks to all his clubs, that's how he excersises, but Mother just lays around. That's where she is right now. She just didn't want to come today. She likes the Junkyard less than I do."

Deuteronomy hugged the tom kit as he cried. Deuteronomy knew that Bustopher was being raised in unique circumstances, but he hadn't realized how much of a strain this was putting on the young cat. Wuskacat was a Jellicle Cat by birth, but had been taken in by a very rich human family who's first cat, and Bustopher's mother, was a Saint James' Street Cat. That tribe, while not having the mystical tie to the Heaviside Lair that the Jellicle did, had very powerful connections in the 'better' parts of London. Bustopher was essentially being raised in two tribes at once. His name and lifestyle was essentially from the Saint James' Street Tribe, while his belief in the Heaviside and the Everlasting Cat was taken care of by the Jellicle Tribe. However, it was becoming more and more apparent to Deuteronomy that the Jellicle side was being sorely neglected. Deuteronomy sighed again. It was difficult, even in the best of conditons, for Jellicle and normal Saint James' Street Cats to get along. Poor Bustopher was getting the worst of both worlds. He wanted to play and be a regular kitten like those he saw with the Jellicles, but at the same time he was being raised in a very strict environment. Deuteronomy knew it really wasn't his place to meddle, but all the same... wouldn't this be protecting of a sort?

"It's like I'm not even their kitten sometimes." Bustopher choked out. "They usually just treat me like a little adult. Mother never grooms me. It's always the human queen. When other cats from Mother's family are at home, it's like I'm a little toy."

Deuteronomy grimiced.

Then he had an idea.

"Bustopher, I want you to come with me." he said gently, helping the kitten to his feet.

Bustopher sniffed again. "Where are we going to go?" he asked. "I still don't want to go to where the other kittens are."

Deuteronomy gave him a kind smile. "Don't worry, Bustopher. I think you'll like going to this place." Bustopher looked rather doubtful, but followed the Jellicle Protector. The gray tabby led him away from the area where the kittens played into another section of the Junkyard. This one was a section that Bustopher was unfamiliar with. It was grubby, grubbier than most areas of the Junkyard. But for some reason, it looked lived in. The rolly-polly kitten couldn't put his finger on it at first, but then he realized that small bits and pieces of this section of the Junkyard looked _clean_. Deuteronomy and Bustopher walked up to an old Ford (no, not _the_ old Ford, just _an_ old Ford) and the older tom rapped on the trunk. From inside, Bustopher could just bearly hear the sound of someone answering.

"Who's there?"

It was a tom... kitten? Whoever it was, sounded very nervous.

"It's Deuteronomy. I have someone here I'd like the two of you to meet."

Slowly the trunk door opened and a mottled brown head stuck itself out. He looked at Deuteronomy and then at Bustopher. Smiling at the former, looking unsure at the latter. "Bring your sister out. I'd like to introduce you all to each other."

The tom kit nodded and ducked back into the car. A moment later he crawed out, follwed by a queen kitten, a little younger than either the first kitten or Bustopher. The tom kitten was mostly brown, gray and tan and a little shaggy around the shoulders. The queen had rolled ears, and was mostly shades of orange. Bustopher noticed that the other two kittens seemed to have the same problem as he did regarding weight.

"Bustopher, this is Asparagus and Jennyanydots. They're new members of the tribe. Asparagus, Jennyanydots; this is Bustopher Jones. He's part Jellicle, part Saint James' Street Cat, but always at home here. (***Author's Note*** - This is Asparagus the chorus cat, not Gus)

"What's a 'Saint James' Street Cat'?" Asparagus asked.

Bustopher looked confused for a moment. Never in his life had he ever met a cat who didn't know his mother's tribe... Then he grinned. "It's not important!" he burst out before Deuteronomy could explain. The elder tom looked a little surprised at the younger one's outburst, but smiled. This was the first time he'd met kittens unbiased towards him for any reason. No way was he going to spoil that.

"Bustopher's dad is talking with Old Philimon." Deuteronomy explained. "I was wondering if the two of you could keep Bustopher company while he waits for his father?" Both the kittens looked a little unsure at first, but then slowly nodded. "Good. I'll make sure to come and get you when your father is ready to go, Bustopher." Then he turned and walked back towards the center of the Junkyard.

"So... Bustopher Jones, was it?" Asparagus asked.

"Yes."

"I've never heard a Jellicle name like that before."

"Well, it's not exactly Jellicle." Bustopher explained. "My mother is from another tribe. She named me."

Asparagus nodded. "But you're still trying to find your Third Name, right? Like the rest of us."

"Oh yes." Bustopher nodded. "I am half Jellicle, after all." He looked around. "How come you live so far from the other kittens?" he asked.

"We don't get on to well with them." Jennyanydots answered quietly. "They're rather mean."

"I understand." Bustopher nodded. "I don't get on to well with them either. I think that's why Deuteronomy brought me here instead of taking me over to the other kittens."

Jenny suddenly smiled. "Would you like something to eat? Asparagus and I have some food in the larder. It's not much, mostly some cheese and some peas, but I'd feel so horrid if I didn't at least offer."

Cheese? Peas? Certainly different from anything he ever got at home. But he was hungry, and Jennyanydots was being nice and offering... "Alright. But not too much. My humans get mad if I don't eat what they give me."

"You live with _humans_?" Jenny asked eagerly. "What's that like? I've heard it's wonderful."

"Not the humans I live with." Bustopher said ruefully. "I can't run around and play or do anything fun in the house. There's too much breakable stuff there."

Asparagus sat down on a pile of old blankets. He motioned for Bustopher to sit down next to him. The tuxedoed tom looked at the blankets for a moment, realizing how dirty they were. _Oh well. I've been on the ground already today..._ he thought to himself as he sat himself down. In the back of the den Jennyanydots bustled around. The marmalade-colored queen was smiling, happy to finally have something to do and a guest to take care of. It had been a long time since it had been anyone but her brother, Old Philimon or Munkustrap around, and she felt absolutely bored if there was nothing for her to do. Finally she bustled back up to the toms with some cheese and a can filled with dry peas, setting them out on a nice discarded china saucer. Serving each of the toms in turn, she eventually sat down to join them.

Over the course of the afernoon the three got to know each other very well. They talked about their respective experiances of being outsiders to the rest of the kittens and at the same time having distant (or in the case of Jenny and Asparagus, absent) parents. By the time Deuteronomy came to take Bustopher back to the tire, he smiled as he heard laughter coming from inside the car. Knocking on the outside, he was greeted by the smiling face of Jennyanydots. "Hello, Deuteronomy. Won't you come in?" she asked.

"Wish I had time to, kitten." the Jellicle Protector replied. "But I have to take Bustopher back to his father now."

Bustopher sighed. He had been having such a good time. He got up reluctantly and crept out of the car, waving to the other two kittens over his shoulder. "I'll see the two of you the next time I come to the Junkyard." he said, smiling.

Deuteronomy smiled. "If that's your attitude now, let's see if you can't get your father down here more often."

The two walked back to the tire where Old Philimon was still talking to Wuskacat. The Jellicle Leader took a look at the kitten and smiled, but Wuskacat had the opposite reaction. "Butstopher Jones! You're filthy! What did your mother tell you before we left?"

Bustopher's tail curled under his legs. "To keep myself clean." he replied, shamefaced.

"Now, now, Wuskacat." Old Philimon stood up and stepped down off the tire. "He was just playing with some other kittens. And you know how all kittens get a bit dusty when they're playing." He smiled down at the kitten. "Can't go treating kittens like toms before their time, you know. Spoils them for later."

Wuskacat sighed and gave Bustopher a stern look. Bustopher gulped. His father wouldn't do anything now, but when they got back to the house...

_Oh well,_ he thought, a small smile spreading over his face. _It was defnitely worth it._


End file.
